


Let Them Eat Cake

by Kalvette



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, But I promise there will be SMUT, F/M, French Revolution, French Revolution au, Horses, It’s the French Revolution of course there’s angst, Light BDSM, M/M, Politics, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Smut, Snoke is Robespierre, THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-13 18:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15370209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalvette/pseuds/Kalvette
Summary: The French monarchy has spent itself into poverty while hosting elaborate galas and dripping in diamonds but the Age of Enlightenment has ushered in entirely new ideas of the rights of the man. The people want to know why they are starving to death while the Austrian whore spends a fortune setting new fashion trends every week.As tension rise and the country hurtles into the unknown, two souls on opposing sides of Revolution find love in each other. Kylo Ren has disowned his royal past and leads the revolutionaries trying to bring down the monarchy. Rey is an orphan working for Han Solo in the Royal Stables and has survived more suffering than anyone else working at Versailles but she has survived in part thanks to the kindness of Princess Leia. Can their love defy the odds and survive Reign of Terror?Come for the Reylo angst/smut but stay for the lesson in French history and political philosophy!





	Let Them Eat Cake

**Author's Note:**

> I may have gotten a little carried away and combined my biggest loves: Horses, the French Revolution, and Reylo! This is my first fanfic and it is unbeta’d so any errors (grammatical or historical) are mine alone. I welcome any ideas, suggestions, corrections or (constructive) criticism! <3
> 
> I’d love to say there’ll be a posting schedule, but given my job, realistically I’ll just hoping to meet my goal of posting a chapter each weekend.

The Royal Stables in Versailles would count as a bustling town anywhere else. Over a thousand stablehands, squires, blacksmiths and coachmen were required to keep the Great Stables and Small Stables running so seamlessly that the nobility never smelled a single pile of manure. The Great Stables and Small Stables faced each other across a cobblestone courtyard with a semi-circular indoor arena connecting the two buildings that by every right are just as beautiful as the palace of Versailles itself.

Today, the Small Stables were a whirl of activity: grooms rushing down the long hallway filled with sunshine streaming in from the arched windows as horses stamped their feet and whinnied from the wood paneled stalls. An older dappled grey mare pawed at the sawdust in her stall and let out an angry snort.

“Ah ça va bien mon amour” Rey cooed as she approached the stall, carrots held out in offering to the mare between the wrought iron bars that made up the top hall of each stall. Finn, another stablehand and her best friend, stayed pressed behind her, using Rey’s body as a shield.

“She’ll bite your hand off!” Finn hissed as Rey stretched her hand flat with her offering on her palm.

“Nonsense! Falcon is just a big baby, you know she just doesn’t like all the drama. Isn’t that right mon bébé?” Falcon let out a throaty nicker in appreciation as her velvety lips delicately plucked the carrots from Rey’s hand. She raised her hand to scratch her neck and Falcon gratefully leaned into her caresses.

Finn huffed in disbelief, “You’re just a horse whisperer, Rey. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Rey beamed at him.

_She’d always had an affinity for horses. When she lived with Plutt, he would have her scavenge for scraps of iron to avoid paying for the materials necessary to run his shoddy blacksmith. But Rey far preferred the freedom the life of a scavenger afforded her over the life Plutt forced upon the other children he fostered. Plutt’s money came from his gang of orphaned children that he forced to steal from the bourgeoisie in Niima, the village near Versailles, in exchange for portions of food. His blacksmith business was a front to hide the fact that he was far wealthier than his meager customer base merited. Plutt was a drunkard who lived on a steady diet of wine and as a result, the blacksmith work he did do was shoddy and frequently resulted in horses going lame._

_No one could pin it on Plutt until Han rode into town on Falcon. Rey couldn’t stay quiet when she had seen Plutt getting ready to drive the nail into the shoe without measuring Falcon’s hoof at all, which could have easily crippled the horse for life. She’d yanked the mallet but was not strong enough to wrench it fully from Plutt’s hand and he had struck her across the shoulder. As she lain on the straw and sandy floor, gasping through the pain and realizing these could be her last moments, Han had returned to see Plutt raise the mallet, intending to strike her across the head._

_“What the kriff is going on here!?” Han had shouted. Falcon was dancing around in the crossties and whinnying nervously as Plutt stood over Rey’s slumped body._

_“What I do in my own shop is my damn business” Plutt growled back at the man. Han was wearing black pants without the silk stockings a man of the French court would wear, a loose white chemise and a black vest, he looked more a local merchant than the husband of a princess._

_“Like hell it is,” Han snorted “Monsieur Chewbacca, have this man arrested.”_

_“You can’t do that!!”_

_“I can have a lettre de cache issued for anyone I damn well please for less than what you’re doing now.” Han turned back to the giant hairy man standing behind him with a crossbow raised and nodded towards Plutt. “Escort our friend here to the Bastille.”_

_Rey tried to scramble to her feet, wincing as she moved her shoulder. “Easy there, kid,” Han grumbled gruffly as he reached out to grab her good shoulder. “No need to do any more damage than’s already been done.”_

_Rey eyed Han distrustfully. Sure, he had a sweet horse and had most likely just saved her life, but he had just said he could have anyone arrested for any reason at all. She’d stolen many things in her short life and had no interest in going to jail for doing what she’d had to do to survive._

_“Merci monsieur.” She stepped closer to the beautiful dappled grey mare, “I’m afraid I can’t shoe your horse tonight but if you bring her back in the morning, I’ll do her shoes at half the cost Plutt would have charged.”_

_Han barked out a laugh at the whisp of a girl offering to shoe his towering warmblood. She glared at him and rested the hand of her uninjured arm on Falcon’s neck. “Who do you think shoes these horses when Plutt’s passed out drunk?”_

_Han tilted his head and he studied the girl once more, a smirk still on his lips. Her fierce hazel eyes blazed and her freckled cheeks were flushed with pain and anger. While she was painfully thin, he could see that her arms were pure muscle. And Falcon clearly like her. Han narrowed his eyes as the horse turned her neck in the cross ties to nuzzle the girl’s chestnut hair that she’d tied back in three buns that formed a vertical line down her head._

_“Look kid, you damn near almost lost your arm and your life today. I think it’ll take more than a few hours for that to heal. But if you’re dead set on doing Falcon’s shoes, how about you come work for me.”_

_Rey froze and immediately shook her head. “No, I’m not leaving Niima. I can’t leave Niima.”_

_Because if she left Niima her parents may never find her. They’d come looking and they wouldn’t be able to ask Plutt where she was and she’d be gone and alone forever._

_“Do you have a family here? A husband to look after you?” Rey glared at the floor and her hand tightened in Falcon’s black mane. “Look, kid, a girl can’t live alone in a town like Niima, no matter how tough you are.” Han sighed and Rey’s frown deepened as she continued to glare at the floor. “If you have a change of heart, come to the Small Stables at Versailles. Tell them Monsieur Solo wants you to be a groom for the Princess of Alderaan.” He grabbed Falcon’s rich leather halter and led her into the street. She followed them out of the shop and stood in the breezeway as she watched them walk away, like she always had._

_No, this time she wouldn’t helplessly watch someone walk away. This time she would act._

_“Wait, no, come back!” She shouted as she jogged to catch up with him. Han stopped and waited as Falcon happily tossed her head. “Can I really work with the Princess’s horses?” Han nodded. Rey chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment and then smiled; this time she would write her own future._

“Falcon and I saved each other” Rey smiled as she scratched the horse’s neck. “She knows I’ll always be there for her.”

Just as she spoke, an imposing black stallion in fiery red livery she didn’t recognize began pawing at the cobblestones and snorting, setting off a chain of frantic whinnies in the stable.

“What is going on, Finn? I’ve never seen this much action before,” even when the King and Queen hosted their elaborate fetes that lasted days and consumed entire vineyards of wine there was less activity in the stables than this.

“Well Poe says...”

“Poe says” Rey parroted back at Finn in a singsong voice.

“Poe says,” Finn continued with a glare but a flush in his cheeks betrayed him, “that the King has called the Estates General in order to raise taxes. The crown is in debt and no one trusts them to pay back any loans, so other countries are refusing to lend any money. Poe says,” he glared at Rey as if daring her to say something again, “the coffers are nearly empty.”

Rey frowned as she stroked Falcon’s neck. That hardly seemed right. Versailles had hosted a splendid masquerade just the other day. Rey had seen the seemingly endless parade of wine, cheeses and pastries that had floated down the halls from the kitchen to the hall of mirrors. And the gowns and glittering jewels had been endless.

No, she knew what poverty meant and what starvation felt like and it was not present in Versailles. She thanked god every day that she had met Han. The winters had been cruel in the two years and famine had killed many in Niima. Bread prices were so high and flour was so scarce that entire families starved to death just hours outside the golden gates of the palace.

“The people cannot possibly pay any more in taxes. They have less than nothing as it is.”

“Well that’s why the King had to call the Estates General. Monsieur Necker is proposing taxes on the nobles!” Finn hissed in excitement.

Rey’s frown deepened, why on earth did the King have to call the ...Estates General... to tax the nobles?

“The nobles were blocking the King’s attempt to impose taxes. But he’s hoping if he calls the Estates General, which hasn’t been called in over a hundred years(!), they’ll see how serious the situation is and accept a property tax.”

“But what the kriff is the Estates General?”

“Poe says...”

“Poe says,” Rey sings.

Another glare, “Poe says the Estate General is made up of three estates: the First Estate is the nobility, the Second Estate is the clergy, and the Third Estate is everyone else. There are twice as many representatives elected to the Third Estate as there are in each of the first two estates, so if the Third Estate gets the vote based on the number of representatives, the nobles will be forced to accept a small tax.”

Rey kicked a ball of horse manure as she glared at the ground. She had no education to speak of —she couldn’t even read — and she hated that she she didn’t understand at all what Finn was trying to tell her. She’d never heard anything about an election for a representative, was there a representative there for her too? And there’s no way the Third Estate could really represent everyone except the clergy and nobles. People like Plutt and Finn couldn’t be more different but they still had the same representatives? That made no sense.

Finn saw her spiraling, he’d been her friend since he’d left the First Order stables in Paris and found his way to Poe, following the handsome soldier to Versailles. He’d joined work with Rey a year ago and learned her every mood and could read her like a book.

“Here’s a pamphlet that’ll help explain. It’s called Qu’est-que le tiers etat and he asks three questions: (1) ‘What is the third estate? Everything. (2) What has it been in the political order? Nothing. (3) What does it want to become? Something.’”

Finn was still talking but Rey was no longer listening as she mulled over Abbe Sieyès’s questions. She absentmindedly stroked Falcons neck as the horse nuzzled at her linen chemise searching for more treats. _I come from nothing, I’m nothing, but all I want is to be something. Is it too much to hope that someone could think that I’m everything?_

**Author's Note:**

> So Kylo wasn’t in this chapter but Silencer was! Did you spot him? And don’t worry, Kylo makes his presence known next chapter.


End file.
